


Conga Fury

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale knows how to handle a staff, M/M, Pre-Slash, bo-staff's are cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale, Stiles had come to conclude, was full of surprises. Just when he thought that he had a good handle on the man, he’d go and go something that would completely through Stiles for a loop. <i>Nay, loop-de-loop. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Conga Fury

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IY6tzXKRgAs>this%20ETHOS%20video</a>%20featuring%20Nick%20Bateman%20and%20his%20fine%20skills.%20<strike>And%20I%E2%80%99m%20just%20a%20sucker%20for%20the%20bo%20staff.</strike>)

Derek Hale, Stiles had come to conclude, was full of surprises. Just when he thought that he had a good handle on the man, he’d go and go something that would completely through Stiles for a loop. Nay, _loop-de-loop_.  
  


Case in point: Derek had been focusing on training the entire pack, which for once, seemed to include Stiles as well. A point that had made Stiles feel gratified intially and just a bit mollycoddled when Derek tried to teach him the basics of self defence while teaching cooler things to the others. But roughly 5 minutes into _that_  lesson, Stiles’ indignation had turned into smug pride as he held Derek down against the ground with one arm pressed firmly into the werewolf’s neck.   
  


"If I was you," Stiles had commented, a smug grin spreading over his face at the surprised look in Derek’s eyes, “I’d try not to underestimate your opponents. Oh and, watch your left side." The cheeky wink at the end  _might_ have been over kill but hey, how many people could say that they got the drop on Derek 'I'm the Alpha' Hale?  
  


Anyways. The obvious result of Stiles proving that he _did_ know enough about taking care of himself was that Derek adjusted his training immediately. Which led to the present scenario of being surprised at Derek's many skills.  
  


Stiles tried to twirl the bo staff in one hand, cursing under his breath when the staff bumped against the wrong finger and fell down, smacking against the toe of his sneakers along the way. He eyed the staff with distrust, leaning down to scoop the staff up before mumbling, “Stupid staff."   
  


Speaking of staffs, Stiles wondered how many dirty jokes he could make up about wooden staffs before Derek lost his cool and would throw him down against the forest floor. Personally he bet 7 dirty jokes.  
  


"Stiles." The sound of his name made Stiles jump guiltily, the wooden staff nearly falling out of his hands again thanks to the stern tone with which Derek had called him out. Sure enough, the expression on Derek's face matched the tone and all of it was directed at him. Oh _joy_.  
  


Leaning against the staff that was as tall as he was, Stiles waved a hand at the older man. “Present, accounted for and wondering what the hell we’re gonna be doing with giant toothpicks."  
  


If he didn’t know any better, Derek seemed to be holding himself back from rolling his eyes. The man had learned how to be patient and deal with Stiles over the course of the last year and a half (yet another surprise!). It was a bit of a shame really. Now it took Stiles twice as much time to get a rise out of Derek but he was up for the challenge. He missed the old days just a tiny bit...  
  


"It’s called a bo staff." Derek replied in a tone that was edging on pained, as though Stiles’ comment had actually hurt him. Stiles eyed the wooden staff before half shrugging in a ‘you say to-may-to, I say to-ma-to, whatever, its the same thing bro’ way. “And we’re here so that you can learn how to defend yourself."  
  


Stiles snorted, unable to stop himself from grinning slightly as he replied, “I thought I proved that I  _could_ defend myself. Care to repeat last week’s performance?" He was happy, ready and able to toss Derek’s ass down on the forest floor _again_ (and no, his happiness did  _not_ stem from the extremely close quarters that his and Derek’s hips might have shared in that take down. Those were simply lies and propaganda spread by evil, evil people!).  
  


Derek, being the utter show off that he tended to be from time to time (read: any time he was near a staircase), lightly pushed his toes against the bo staff lying in front of him. A small kick up was all it took to make the staff jump in the air before it was smoothly grabbed by the werewolf. “Show off." Stiles grumbled, wondering how much practice it must have taken to perfect that move.  
  


But the werewolf smirked, sweeping the long staff in front of him in an elegant sweep before crossing it in front of his bare chest in a lazy figure eight. Without his bidding, one eyebrow went up in skepticism as Derek tucked the staff under one arm and watched him. “Do you even know how to use that?" Stiles couldn’t stop himself from asking dubiously. He hadn't known Derek could handle any kind of weapon much less a bo staff.  
  


It was Derek’s turn to raise an eyebrow before he shrugged and brought the staff down in front of him, both hands gripping the wood tight. As soon as he had closed his eyes, Stiles took a quick moment to ogle the sight. Honestly, he  _dared_ anyone to  _not_ ogle the sight of a half naked Derek Hale standing in front of his house. That entire torso was just  _begging_  to be ogled. Stiles was happy to be the man for the job.  
  


While Stiles was admiring Derek’s pecs from afar, he noted the slow, deep breaths that were making Derek’s chest rise and fall. And also the one breath that Derek held on for a second too long before expelling it slowly. Stiles’ eyes snapped up towards Derek’s face but they just as quickly went down towards the werewolf’s hands.  
  


The first few motions were slow, like Derek was trying to get a feel for the weapon. A deep figure eight that made the veins in his arms stand out prominently, making Stiles wet his suddenly dry lips, and then more so when the staff can down straight, striking an imaginary opponent dead on.   
  


After that, it was just poetry in motion.  
  


Stiles found his mouth going dry at the sight. He forgot to swallow. Hell, he forgot to fucking  _breathe_  as Derek moved from one move to another, lithe and sinuous as he moved barefoot across the ground. Derek was more like a graceful cat than the werewolf that he was as he fought off imaginary opponents, one after another.  
  


There were too many things that were vying for his attention at the same time - The sweat that had broken out across Derek’s body. The manner in which his muscles were bunching and shifting with every thrust and parry. The stretch of denim over lean thighs. The graceful elegance with which Derek was wielding the staff.   
  


He found himself starting badly when Derek brought the staff up with a sharp jerk, a diagonal line that slowly came down from it’s defensive position into a more peaceful one and Stiles thought, ‘W _ell, that’s it. That’s the whole show.’_  
  


But he had forgotten the show off part.   
  


Derek smoothly moved into another set of moves, moving as swiftly as flowing water. All of them were fancy twirls and flips that made Stiles envy the sheer  _grace_ with which Derek was moving. He didn’t know who to be more jealous off when the werewolf made the long staff dance between his fingers - the damn pole or the fucking fingers.   
  


Maybe, he mused with the world’s worst case of cotton mouth, he ought to be jealous of the staff. Because the way that it had moved-twirled-glided along Derek’s neck, shoulders and back before sliding into the waiting palm had just been  _sinful_. Stiles wanted to be that staff and press his hands into that strong neck, smear the sweat that had gathered on that skin before moving on to tip toe over the tense shoulders and carry on to the second shoulder, leaving fingertip kisses behind in their wake.  
  


 _‘Definitely the staff.’_  Stiles moaned inside his head when Derek lightly tossed the staff in the air, his body twisting in place and catching the fading day light in all the wrong ways that made Stiles want to reach down and readjust himself in his jeans.  
  


Stiles raised a distracted hand against his mouth as Derek faced him again, one leg rising up to make room for his hand to reach down and grab the staff. _’That way I could be_ that close  _to his crotch.’_  Stiles swallowed that thought down, choking on it before it burned its way down into the pit of his stomach.  
  


There was another moment of calm, Derek’s body thrumming with energy and heat even as he stood with his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed with concentration. The calm before the storm Stiles couldn’t help but think. The final set was just… Stiles couldn’t find the words to describe it.  
  


It was sweat soaked and brutal. It was deadly and graceful. It made Stiles itch and yearn for the same amount of knowledge and grace that Derek was using to wield the bo staff with such ease. It made him pity anyone who would be on the receiving end of those hits that made the air whistle.   
  


Derek made every motion seem weightless and easy but the sweat and strained muscles spoke of the power and thought that went into every damn move. Stiles could just barely make out the staff as it twirled through the air - front, back, right, left, front - it was nothing but a pale blur.   
  


He was aware of his mouth falling open when Derek pushed himself off the ground, body twisting and stretching in mid air as he swept the staff over his head. Between one heartbeat and the next, Derek hand landed on his feet and the staff had cracked down hard against the dirt. Stiles flinched and closed his mouth with an audible click when the far end snapped off and bounced away to rest against a pile of rust colored leaves.  
  


His Adam’s apple bobbed, the sound of his dry swallowing seeming way too loud in the silence that was hanging between them. Like he’d said. Loop-de-fucking- _loop_.

Derek was still, one knee digging into the soft dirt, sweat dripping off his sharp angles. Stiles stared at the one drop dangling off the tip of Derek’s nose. The teenager had to bite down on the inside of his lip to prevent the whimper that had risen up with the desire to lick the salty drop off.  
  


Stiles swallowed again, forcing himself to take in a much needed breath or else he was going to pass out due to a lack of oxygen in his system. It sort of helped that Derek was getting back up to his feet and sort of didn’t because while before he had just been half naked, now he was sweaty  _and_ half-naked  _and_ capable of kicking some serious ass with a bo staff. Stiles was in  _serious_ danger of swooning here.  
  


Stiles just wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. Or well, he knew what to do with it but just whipping his half-hard dick out in front of the person responsible for its half-hard state just wasn’t socially acceptable. “So." He tried not to wince at how his voice cracked, or how hot Derek looked when he was being a smug asshole. “Okay. You  _do_ know how to use that thing."  
  


"Never said I didn’t." Derek replied smoothly, eyes glittering dangerously. “I’m pretty familiar with handling staffs." And Stiles almost had a heart attack because there was  _no way_  that Derek was making a dirty reference. The sky was going to fall on their heads any second now! His brain had been completely addled by the extremely arousing display of masculinity and he was now hallucinating Derek Hale flirting dirty with him.  
  


"I could handle yours if you wanted." Not only did the gears in his head crack to a fucking halt but they popped out of their place and went rolling along the floor as Stiles stared in disbelief at Derek.  
  


He knew that he was doing a remarkable impression of a startled fish out of water before he croaked out, " _What?_ ”  
  


Derek was giving him a vaguely concerned frown before he repeated his words, “I said I could show you how to handle yourself if you wanted." Ah. Well.  _Well_. That made a lot more sense didn’t it. Damn his lust addled brain.   
  


"Right! Yes!" Stiles nodded, hoping to shake off all thoughts about Derek handling his ‘staff’. He brought his staff up to waist level, sweaty palms holding on tight. "Teach me, Obi-wan." 

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](http://chaoticwaltz.tumblr.com)


End file.
